


Suitcase

by Navangely



Category: Football RPF
Genre: Atlético de Madrid vs Real Madrid, Copa del Rey, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-10
Updated: 2015-01-10
Packaged: 2018-03-07 00:56:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,128
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3154784
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Navangely/pseuds/Navangely
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fernando came home to Madrid and Sergio.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Suitcase

**Author's Note:**

> Betaed by the amazing [halogens](http://www.archiveofourown.org/users/halogens/profile/). This fic was inspired by a certain Sernando hug and [this](http://38.media.tumblr.com/e68f86f34bd1c19be16fbd51ac7ceedf/tumblr_nhtqd2tFqD1r4rtago1_500.gif) gif. It's dedicated to Adrianna and Niki because they cried with me over their reunion ♡ The title is taken from the song 'Suitcase' by Matthew Koma. 
> 
> Please enjoy :)

He was back.

You remember how he held your heart in his hands all those years ago. You gave it to him recklessly because you were young and you were enchanted by his beauty. But he took it gently and promised to take care of it with a smile. He was kind and good and he listened to you, said all the right things at the right times but stood by your side in silence when no words were needed. Sometimes he looked fragile but then the sun kissed him on the cheek and his eyes lit up with fire. He was like a tree, full of life, always growing, never backing down from reaching the sky. And you wanted to reach it with him together.

Then he decided to leave. He still had your heart and he tried to give it back but you didn’t want it.

“Take it with you, I don’t need it.”

It was like watching a mirror shatter into tiny little pieces. You saw the same dreams in his eyes you were aiming for and even if you couldn’t take the same road there, you wanted him to get everything he’d ever wished for. You opened your mouth again to say something, to reassure him but you were never a man of words. Your weapon was action, so you laid your hands on the curve of his neck and with a kiss you told him everything he needed to know.

After that, he smiled and nodded. He packed his suitcase with his clothes and your heart and left Madrid.

It was then that the sun stopped shining for you.

Everything faded away into a grey mess. There were no colours apart from that, only the white of your jersey and you fought like a warrior, so it wouldn’t be tainted by the grey. You couldn’t give it your heart, for it was traveling around in the rainy England in a suitcase, but you gave it everything you had left: your body, your mind and your soul.

Sometimes you talked to him on the phone and his voice soothed your fears of never seeing him again. You saw him when you two played for Spain, the country that gave birth to both of you, the country that was a mother to you all in the team. You felt good then because your heart was closer to your body and the hole in your chest wasn’t aching that much.

He never wanted to stay, though, and you didn’t ask him to.

So you followed his journey from the distance. He became many things in England: a victor, a hero, a traitor, a champion and a weakness. He’s somehow lost himself on the way and you wished you could wrap your arms around him and keep every harm from him, because he didn’t deserve any of that. But you couldn’t, so you watched helplessly as the fire behind his smile turned into a flicker of flame.

Then he went to Italy and you felt hope rising in you. He looked so happy in his presentation that you called him the next day and just listened to him talking about Milan and the warm welcome he’d received. You heard the undertone, though, you heard that he was a little afraid but he was full of determination and you always believed in second chances anyway.

When you were a kid, some people told you that dreams were meant to be broken. You always laughed and stuck your tongue out at them but then you suddenly understood what they meant.

“You can do this”, you said to him on the phone after yet another match where he failed to score.

“Liar.”

For a second, you forgot how to breathe. Then you opened your mouth.

“Are you serious? Did you just call me a liar? Did you just really say that?” You felt anger clouding your head and it was good because it was better than the numb helplessness. “Have I ever lied to you? Who do you think you’re talking to? Why don’t you believe me? Why do you think so low of yourself? Now listen here, you idiot: you’re the best person I’ve ever met. You’re one of the most dangerous strikers I’ve ever come across and I’ve met a few. You’re a beast. Maybe you aren’t as fast as you used to be but shit happens. Either you whine about it or you do something about it and build strength from your weakness. And I know you’ve tried, don’t deny it. Just keep going. I know you’ve already reached the sky but now reach for the sun. You are a hero, a legend. You are our number 9. You are El Niño and Madrid will always love you.” You held back the ‘Just like how I always will.’

He didn’t say anything and you feared that he would have hung up on you but you also didn’t care because this was needed to be said and he needed to hear it.

He sighed and let out a low chuckle. “And you say you are not a man of words.”

You almost gave him a piece of your mind again but then he whispered something that froze the blood in your veins: “Maybe I should come home.”

“Maybe you should.” You wanted him to come home more than anything but first you had to make something sure. “If that’s what you really want.”

“I want to.” He sounded so fragile, you just wanted to hold him and never let go.

And so he came home.

You wanted to visit him immediately but Madrid thrust herself in front of you. Her child was back and she had every intention of hugging the dear life out of him. You didn’t mind, though. He deserved every kind word, every flower, every shout, every standing ovation. The Calderón chanted his name like a prayer and breathed air into the flickering flame behind his smile. The fire came back with full force and it burned, oh, it burned.

And suddenly, it was Wednesday night and he was standing in front of you. He looked beautiful. You wanted to take a photo of him right there and then and frame it, so you could stare at it for the rest of eternity. But just seeing him wasn’t enough. You ran in front of him, grabbed his arm and after so many years you felt your heart beat again. You weren’t aware how ridiculously happy you looked, all you knew was that he was finally back. Back in your arms where he belonged. You hugged him and smiled at him and he smiled back at you.

It was then that the sun started shining again.


End file.
